Glare At the Paper
Faeries are so much more delicate than they used to be.
So lithe.
So light.
So lovely.
But they are also legally-wise now, and they will take you to litigation in a minute.
What?
Your brain stops suddenly, smiling.
Hush! You say. That is most certainly not how this poem should begin.
What were you thinking? You ask yourself.
The brain grins, not wanting to take the blame, all-knowing.
We re-start, my pen and I, disgruntled but ready this time.
Faeries are beautiful, brainy, bright-hearted and belligerent.
This traitorous word brings every new idea to a sudden disturbing halt.
You feel doubly irritated now.
Who borrowed your brain in the middle of the night?
Where do you go from here?
You glare at the paper, stomp off, and take a little nap, so you can begin again, refreshed.
Except you are too angry to sleep…
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